


The One Where Need Wins

by SherlockWolf



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, M/M, kissing cuz theyre nerds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-04-10 20:53:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4407290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockWolf/pseuds/SherlockWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off a piece of art work (in the notes). Bucky decides to take a break from living on the streets after he's excaped HYDRA. But, after he finds something unexpected in Steve's apartment, he can't bring himself to leave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One Where Need Wins

    Bucky was home in Brooklyn, passed out on Steve’s couch, his hair cut to the style he’d seen on himself from the pictures at the Smithsonian. Ignoring certain factors—the sound of modern vehicles outside the window, pop music blaring through the thin walls of the apartment next door, and Bucky’s metal arm—it was almost as if he were truly home in their old apartment back in the thirties.

    Steve, of course, had no idea that Bucky was there. The avenger was off helping his team fight some new end-the-world threat. Bucky had needed somewhere to crash, and since he’d exhausted every dumpster and cheap motel in the area, he figured that sneaking in while Steve was out of the country wouldn’t be a problem. He was a skilled hacker, so the monitoring systems Tony Stark had installed to protect Steve never picked up any trace of Bucky disabling them.

    The first thing he did the night he arrived was shower, and then he turned on the radio and zonked. In the morning, he had eaten whatever he’d found appetizing in Steve’s refrigerator, and right afterward had decided that twenty-four hours before Steve was expected back he would go out and replenish all of the food he’d eaten. He made a detailed list and stuck it to the fridge with a cat shaped magnet that he found on the side of the fridge.

    He’d settled into Steve’s place easily, and without anything better to do decided to go through the possessions Steve had stashed away in various places to see if there were any more memories his stuff could dredge up from the depths of his brainwashed mind. Bucky went through anything, from toiletries to clothes to the small digital camera Steve had. Nothing seemed to spark any new memories, but the camera was Bucky’s favourite to look through. It had some adorable pictures on it. There was one where Steve was sitting in on a park bench and watching the sunset that Bucky wished he could print out and save forever because Steve’s face seemed so serene. God, how he’d missed that man’s face.

    He’d been there for about three days when he stumbled on a manila folder titled, _The Winter Soldier Project._ Bucky spent the rest of that day going through the contents of the folder. At one point he located a tissue box because he’d ended up with a runny nose from crying. When he finished reading everything, he couldn’t be more grateful to Steve Rogers for saving him from those _monsters._

    It was because of that that Bucky ultimately decided to stay. He’d gone out and bought Steve’s groceries (and a little extra: strawberry rubarb pie, which he knew Steve loved), but then, instead of leaving, he’d settled into the new evening routine he’d created and watched episodes of _Spongebob Squarepants_ on Steve’s television before falling asleep on the couch. He was well aware of the risks, but he’d made up his mind. It was time that he gave Steve a chance. His memories were solidifying by the day, and at this point he really just missed the punk. 

    There was so much he wanted to learn from him. Was their childhood really as bleak—yet adventurous—as he remembered? Was Steve’s mom really that wonderful of a human being? Was Steve really an artisit? _Were they really in love?_ There was a plethora of memories that Bucky wasn’t sure were real. Steve was the only one who could confirm them.

~

     A loud gasp and the sound of something heavy being dropped woke Bucky. He opened his eyes to find that it was still dark out and that a very shocked Steve Rogers was standing at the doorframe of his living room, staring at Bucky as if he were a ghost.

    In an off-hand kind of way, he was.

    Steve was wearing a blue collared shirt and jeans, and for a fleeting moment Bucky felt naked in comparison since he was only wearing boxers and a rather see-through tank. It didn’t help that Steve couldn’t stop staring (even though his eyes were solely focused on Bucky’s face).

    During the silence, Bucky had straightened up, adjusted his clothes (for lack of anything better to do), and cleared his throat awkwardly. That abrupt sound is what made Steve _finally_ talk.

    “B…Bucky?” Steve sputtered out, having to restart his sentence because he was simply so surprised.

“Hey.” Bucky replied shyly, unsure of what else to say. Steve was tense, and it made Bucky feel as if staying was a poor decision.

“Why’re you here?” He asked, his tone stern and cold, but that didn’t deter Bucky. He’d assumed Steve would be suspicious since Bucky had until recently been an assassin of HYDRA.

“I got tired of staying in the streets. And…I think I’m ready to come home. If you’ll let me.”

    Bucky had been rehearsing what he would say to Steve all night, and he’d settled on _home_ as a key word to win Steve over. He knew that Steve, if he still wanted him, would love to consider himself home for Bucky. The Steve in his memories would’ve loved that, too.

Steve took a moment to soak in Bucky’s words, before nodding. “Yeah. Of course, Buck.”

    Bucky stood then, encouraged by Steve’s acceptance, and took timid steps forward. Steve never stopped him, but Bucky paused barely a foot away from him to maintain a respectful—stranger like—distance. It was then that he noticed the duffle bag at Steve’s feet, and assumed that it falling must’ve been the noise that woke him.

    “I think most of my memories are back.” He said, his voice nearly a whisper as he became the one to stare. Steve’s baby blues were right there. Those eyes were the colour that had been a comfort to him through the decades, and even while his memories had been returning, Bucky hadn’t understood the true value of that colour of blue until now. It was life altering, entrancing, and Bucky felt as if he could watch the beauty of Steve’s eyes for the rest of his life.

    “Yeah?” Steve responded, his voice louder but no less shaky than Bucky’s. His voice shook Bucky out of his trance, and so he began telling Steve the few memories he’d picked out that he thought would help convince Steve that he was getting better.

    “Yeah. And I remember so many things. I remember all of the years spent with HYDRA; I remember all of those things that were in that folder of yours happening to me; I remember when they first got ahold of me after I fell; I remember falling—Steve, I remember the horror on your face—I remember you saving me before that from Zola; I remember the war; I remember being home, here in Brooklyn with you in our apartment; I remember your art; I remember your mom, and I remember being in lov-.”

    Bucky felt a slight sting on his mouth followed by pressure, which he realized was Steve’s hand covering his mouth so that he would stop talking.

“Bucky, _please_. You don’t-!” Steve began, and in the back of his mind Bucky wondered if he was trying to chastise him for rambling or for having been about to admit that he had been in love with him. It didn’t matter, though, because as soon as his brain processed that Steve was touching him, his body went slack.

    Steve was here. Alive. Safe.

    Bucky was with him. Alive. _Safe._

    Nothing was going to change that now.

    The wave of _love_ that rolled through Bucky’s body at that moment was nearly enough to make him fall over. He ended up pushing against Steve’s hand so that the back of it was pressed against Steve’s lips, as if he were kissing the man through his palm. Tears began to slide down his face as the feeling continued rippling through him.

    Steve made a startled _mmph_ sound—which is what cut him off—when Bucky’s weight leaned against him. The man stumbled backwards, but Bucky’s hands reflexively flew around his waist to hold him up.

    “Bucky.” Steve tried to say, but his voice was so muffled that all Bucky heard was “u-y”, and so he chose to ignore him. Steve tried again, to no avail, and had to push Bucky off of him in order to get the man’s attention.

Bucky slipped his arms off of Steve and stepped back, his watering eyes finally opening and focusing on Steve. He was watching Bucky with eyes that almost seemed helpless, and for a fleeting moment Bucky wondered if he was going to kick him out because of what he’d just done.

    But he didn’t. Instead, Steve reached out for him, pulling Bucky back to him and holding him in an embrace that could squeeze the breath out of a lion. Bucky didn’t complain though, and hugged back just as tightly with his face tucked against Steve’s neck. He made sure not to press too hard with his metal arm for Steve’s comfort.

    “I missed you so much.” Steve choked out a minute later, and from the cracking of his voice Bucky new he was crying, too.

“I missed you too, punk.” Bucky whispered, tightening his hold on Steve ever so slightly.

Steve’s broken laugh had Bucky’s tears flowing again. “So it’s really you, huh?”

“Yep. One-hundred percent me. No more badass Robocop.”

“I have no idea what that means.”

It was Bucky’s turn to laugh, enjoying the normalcy of the conversation given the circumstances. “It’s a movie.”

“Then we should watch it sometime.” Steve said, his voice sounding much more put together. He sniffled a little, though, which made Bucky smile despite himself. Steve had always had a big heart, and Bucky felt pride that Steve hadn’t let time change that. This man truly was a good one.

    When they finally let go of one another, it was because Steve had mentioned how tired he was from traveling back from…some European country Bucky had never heard of. Steve picked his duffle bag off of the floor and headed for his bedroom with Bucky in tow.

    Steve was surprised to find out that Bucky hadn’t slept in his bed when he asked out of curiosity.

“You could’ve made yourself comfortable, Buck, I wouldn’t have cared.”

“I know. I just…I wasn’t sure, you know?” Was his response. He didn’t want admit that when he first came here, he’d been afraid that he wouldn’t be able to leave if he slept with the comfort of Steve’s scent surrounding him. He’d ended up staying anyway, but that was such an intimate, almost _embarrassing_ detail that there was no way he would tell Steve about it.

    “Well, you can...uh, stay in here tonight. With me. If you want, of course.” Steve told him awkwardly, in a way that was adorably over-polite. The mighty Captain America even blushed a little, much to Bucky's amusement.

“Yeah.” Was all Bucky could breathe out, though. He took a glance at the clock that was on Steve’s night stand and realized that it was two a.m. There was plenty of time before daylight for them to catch some sleep. And the idea of sharing warmth as they once had was too irresistible to pass up.

Steve encouraged Bucky to climb in and get comfortable while he went into the bathroom and changed into pajamas. Bucky took a moment once the door closed to gather his nerves.

    Steve had accepted him without so much as a hesitant thought. It was more than Bucky thought he deserved, and it made him giddy with happiness. The feeling from before, in the living room, hit him again, and he crawled into the left side—his side—of Steve’s bed, reeling in amazement at the intensity of the feeling.

    When Steve joined him, he wrapped his arms around Bucky like and octopus and tucked his face under Bucky’s chin. It was more than Bucky had expected, and once they were comfortable he knew he would never want to fall asleep any other way for the rest of his life.

“G’night, Bucky.” Steve whispered, tugging him a slight bit closer.

“Night, Stevie.” Bucky replied, and the huff of surprised breath against his neck at the nickname put yet another soft smile on his face.

    God, it was good to be _home._

_\---_

 

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by: http://www.deviantart.com/art/stucky-462853879


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